The Inner Musings of a Dead Girl
by nakala
Summary: He was our friend, and even at eleven, to me, he was more. He was more. More than any eleven year old should understand, and I don't think he did. If he did, he may not have become someone who could take a life.


**My first Twistedfic. Got bored in Bio Anat and Phys and decided I would write something, and this is what I came up with. **

**Read and Review. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that is Twisted. **

He may not have killed Regina, but that doesn't exclude him as a killer.

He killed his aunt, and in doing so cast a heavy blanket of distress over my life as well as Jo's. The media. The town. The stares. He burdened me with more than I could bear. He would never know about the nightmares that seized my nights. He would never feel the cold sweats that welcomed me when my breath was no longer in my lungs and my eyes couldn't stand the images my brain forced in front of them. He wouldn't understand how hard it was to be around my best friend. The best friend that was going through just as much as I was. The best friend that lost him just as I had. We both lost him.

He was our friend, and even at eleven, to me, he was more. He was more. More than any eleven year old should understand, and I don't think he did. If he did, he may not have become someone who could take a life. But he did. Then he's a murderer and being sent away.

He took me with him.

He snatched from me all the innocence and joy of adolescence, and replaced it with bitter depression and pessimism. A pessimism that shaped and molded me. I lost the bright-eyed bushy-tailed outlook so many of my peers carelessly possessed. I envied them. I envied their naiveté, and ignorant bliss. They were free to pretend that he had never existed. Their lives floated on as if nothing had ever happened. But not me. I was hampered by death, murder, and longing. I no longer saw the world in radiant black and white, but gray. Everything was shaded a ghostly gray. Because of him, there was no color in my life. He took that from me.

He stole Jo from me. He covered her in disillusion that she cuddled up with daily. She couldn't let it go. I couldn't let it go. But, I learned to hide it. Jo was too much of a realist for that. So, she embraced her hurt, discarded her anger, and grabbed on to hope. It became about him. She made sure it was all about him. Every day, it was always about him. She didn't understand. She couldn't have because I never told her. I never let her in the way I had let him in before. I didn't know how. She didn't make it easy and the damage was already beyond reparable. He cloaked her in a memory that I would give anything to be rid of. To be rid of the guise shielding me from even me. From him.

He came back and suddenly the porcelain veil began to fracture. The years of crowded solitude began to suffocate me. Suddenly, my carefully crafted life began to crumble from the outside in. The people that once provided false fortitude suddenly were merely undressed mannequins in a window display. Suddenly, the desperation and fear time held captive were released and left me running for my life. He was coming for me, and I desired an escape that I dreaded would never come.

He haunts me. I can feel the tentacles of his presence reaching out for me. I can see the begging in his gaze and the hunger in his voice. He wants me. Admittedly, I want him. Yet, the fear keeps me at bay. There is too much mystery enshrouding him. There's too much that I can't let go. I cannot surrender to his dark, penetrating leer. I don't know what lurks behind it. If I give in, will I come out unscathed on the other side? Will I survive? He beckons me with his deceptive diffidence. I know it's a ruse, but it works. The show of vulnerability that shatters my practiced bravado. I see the taunting crooked upturn of his lips that's alerts me of his knowing. He knows.

He knows me. I have tried to hide, but he can see through every barrier erected to protect me from his omniscient glances. As much as I want to deny everything, he knows. He knows. He sees the labored breathing he incites and the fluttered eyelids. He sees because he's always watching. Even when he's with Jo, he's always watching. Watching me squirm under his scrutinizing eyes. Eyes that have been inspecting me since the moment they saw me.

He is seeping in. He is pushing his way into my life, and there's nothing I can do about it. He wields a force over me so strong; I fear I will succumb. His midnight eyes are tearing into my steel barricades reaching _me._ He is getting to _me. _No one has been privy to that person for five years, and that is exactly what I want. That person should remain hidden from prying eyes. That person should remain buried, and I intend to keep it that way. But, No matter how much I push, his force seems overwhelming. I punch, yet, his gentle caress bruises. I don't know how long I can man the front lines of the battle for my soul.

He has me. I cracked the door open and he barged in enthralling me. All of my efforts were for naught. One kiss and I surrendered to death. Fire engulfed me, burning away the remnants of doubt and fear. He has burned his way into my soul.

He consumed me. I am no more. He took all of me and ravaged all that _was_ me. He dismantled it and thrust it into a fiery furnace. The inferno raged until there was nothing left. No bone fragments could be found in the ashes.

He killed me.

He may not have killed Regina, but that certainly doesn't exclude him as a killer.

**Okay. So what do you think? Like or dislike? Let me know. Also, if you didn't get it, Danny killed the persona that is Lacey. Not Lacey. **

**Review. **

**And thanks for reading,**

**nakala**


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